


Let the Sun Shine In

by SongAboutExiles



Series: Our Better Angels [3]
Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Domestic Dispute, Jealousy, M/M, Mild BDSM
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 03:32:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14155713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SongAboutExiles/pseuds/SongAboutExiles
Summary: Methos and Joe go flat shopping, Amanda makes an ill-timed but perfectly Amanda entrance, first arguments, a little BDSM thrown in and tooth-rotting fluff. It's the whole package, folks.





	Let the Sun Shine In

"As you can see, this flat is just full of natural light!" The perky letting agent gestured unnecessarily to the huge windows that lined the back wall, the morning sun slanting in to shine across the hand-scraped wooden floors. 

Methos blinked, then blinked again. It was bloody early (for him) and that was indeed a great deal of light. Joe squeezed his hand tightly for a moment, closing his eyes and downright basking in the sun. Well, he had been living in a rather dingy apartment above a bar for a while, Methos supposed. 

And damn, that little smile that played across Joe's lips went right to his heart and squeezed tightly. 

"Let's see the rest, shall we?" Methos kept his hand in Joe's, where it stayed most of the bloody time at this point, and they ambled into the kitchen, which is where Methos' interest perked right up. It was a gourmet's delight, with counter space that went on for miles and a deep sink and a six-burner cooktop. He caught Joe looking at him this time, that same fond smile on his face. 

"You could cook me some pretty nice meals in here. Just saying." Joe's fond smile turned to a grin. 

"Barefoot and pregnant, is it?" Methos grinned back, feeling his old heart tighten yet more, like it was trying to take this feeling and hold it fast in his soul. They were just shopping for a flat - no. Methos knew better than that. They were looking for a home. 

"Why don't we go see the bedrooms?" The letting agent--what was her name? Eloise--led them deeper into the flat, past two smaller bedrooms and a guest bath tiled in brilliant, pristine white. Then, they entered the master bedroom. It was huge, but not too huge that it lacked in cosiness, and Joe looked around it with an air of mock speculativeness. It shared the wall with all the windows, and the light poured in.

Joe cocked his head, taking it all in, and then he leaned in and whispered in Methos' ear, "I want you to fuck me for the first time in this room."

Methos blushed, actually blushed, all the way to the tops of his ears. Eloise smothered a smile. She had her sale, and she knew it. "We'll take it," Methos said softly. 

The rest of the tour comprised of the lovely back garden, which backed to a park. It was in a very nice neighbourhood, and it cost a fucking fortune. Anything that made Joe smile like this was worth every euro.

They put in their offer right there, Joe's eyes widening as Methos offered more than the flat was listed for, just to make sure it wasn't taken out from under them. "Adam, are you sure?"

"Unbelievably sure." More sure of this than he'd been of anything in centuries, in fact. Adam Pierson had just inherited a fortune from his dead uncle. He could more than afford it. 

Joe kissed him then, right in front of Eloise, who was undoubtedly calculating her commission in her head. "I'll submit the offer immediately. I have no doubt the owner will accept." 

"Excellent. Please do contact me when it's time to sign the papers." Methos could do rich when he wanted to, even dressed down in his usual jeans and henley and slightly ratty black coat. 

Once they'd left, Joe shook his head in amazement while Methos called for a cab. "You just did that."

"We just did that. We have a home." Methos gave out the address to the taxi company and hung up his mobile. 

"It's a little surreal, isn't it? That this is happening so fast?" That fateful afternoon had been less than two weeks ago.

"What, you like having my stuff strewn across your apartment?" Methos would never be a neat freak, not if he had anything to say about it. "Gods, we are going to need a maid. I am not scrubbing all that grout."

"God forbid." Joe nodded solemnly before grinning again. "I kinda like having to move your boxers off my guitar before shows." Usually since they'd been tossed there prior to some truly enthusiastic sex.

The taxi finally showed up and deposited them back at the bar. The staff still looked at them like Joe had grown three heads and Methos was some kind of siren, but they'd overall taken the new arrangement pretty much in stride. In truth, some of them were glad that Methos was distracting Joe from all the tasks he usually failed to delegate. 

Upstairs, Methos flopped on the bed. "Ugh, I'm going to have to go to Seacouver."

"Really? Why?" Joe sat next to him and took his hand from where it lay melodramatically across his forehead. 

"If Adam is inheriting money, I have to go see my accountants and lawyers to manage the whole business. But..." He shifted enough to dig his wallet out, opening it and handing a black card to Joe. "I wanted you to furnish the flat while I'm gone, if you would like to."

Joe took the card, saw his name on it, and whistled. "Damn, Methos. You're just handing me an unlimited line of credit?"

"Of course." Methos looked at him through his lashes. "How else will you spend my money?"

"I don't know how to spend so much money." Joe shook his head and got up to put the card in his own wallet. 

"Never fear. There is someone in Paris who knows both of us, has exquisite taste, and a, shall we say, passion for shopping." 

"Amanda." 

"Amanda." Methos grinned. "She's coming to the show tonight."

"God help me. This is going to be exhausting, isn't it?" Joe laughed and flopped down next to Methos. 

"I'm afraid so. But just think...when I get back, I'll be coming home to you." Methos looked over at him and smiled, a rare sunny smile that reached his eyes. 

Joe shifted and cupped the side of Methos' face with a gentleness that made his heart clench again. "How did we even get here?"

"I believe we shagged ourselves right into it." Methos nuzzled into Joe's palm.

"Nah. I mean, yeah, we did plenty of that, but I never thought I'd ever love someone the way I love you." Joe shook his head and leaned in to kiss Methos softly. "I'm sure this is old hat to you."

"No. No, Joe, it's not." Methos carded his hand through Joe's hair. "You're the first person in my life to know me, the bad parts and the good, and want me anyway. That is new. That is a wonder to me."

"You know I'm going to have to make love to you now." Methos didn't much like that term, 'making love,' but right now it was perfect.

He leaned over and pressed his mouth to Joe's with a mumbled 'I should bloody well hope so.' It was like coming home, every time. In truth, their surroundings didn't matter a damned bit to Methos. He just wanted to spoil Joe. All he needed was right here.

"Let me." Methos shifted and knelt between Joe's legs, working open his belt and shucking down his jeans, stopping at the boots and socks, and then worked off the prosthetics. When Joe was naked from the waist down, he kissed, licked and gently bit a path up his inner thighs, making Joe groan and spread his legs. Methos engulfed his prick, amazed at how utterly familiar his taste had become, and how quickly. He suckled until Joe was hard and leaking and his own erection was insistently pressing against unforgiving denim. 

"Methos, Jesus, you have to stop that if you want anything more." Joe propped himself up on his elbows to watch Methos work his cock, and it obviously got to him, from the way his cock twitched in Methos' mouth. 

"What if this is what I want?" Methos let Joe's cock slip from his mouth, but kept the tip of his tongue playing over the exposed, deep-red head. 

"Who am I to argue?" Methos grinned and pulled him closer to the edge of the bed, loving the fact that Joe trusted his strength to keep him from falling off. He took Joe back into his mouth, not teasing this time. He loved it when Joe watched him, and he couldn't resist showing off. 

He buried his nose at the base of Joe's prick, letting his throat muscles contract around the thick length of it and moaning long and hard before bobbing his head. Joe cried out and watched him the whole time. It was so obvious that Methos loved this, loved him, and Methos loved that it drove Joe mad.

He pulled out all the stops, suckling hard and slow and deep, letting his tongue work its magic while his hands gripped Joe's thighs firmly, holding him in place. Joe was right - he did not last long. He arched right up off the bed as he came, crying out brokenly and filling Methos' hungry mouth. 

When he was spent, Methos scooted him a little bit back on the bed, till he could find his own balance, and crawled atop him, still fully clothed, seizing his mouth in a kiss. So far, nothing had been off limits with Joe, and that drove him crazy. Not only was he dizzyingly in love, he was dizzyingly in love with a closet hedonist. 

The knock at the door made both of them jump about a foot in the air. "What the fuck," Joe mumbled grumpily as Methos threw a blanket over him and forced himself up, dragging his shirt down over his own raging erection. 

"It's an Immortal." Methos groaned. He knew that Quickening. "Inconsiderate fucking..." He opened the door and Amanda breezed in without so much as a by-your-leave, leaving a trail of expensive perfume in her wake. "Amanda."

"Methos. Joe. Jesus, boys, you guys ever heard of cracking a window?" She went right over and did just that, airing out the room. "It smells like a whorehouse in here."

"And you would know," Methos answered sweetly.

"Low blow, darling." She kissed his cheek and looked over at Joe. "I certainly interrupted the hell out of something, didn't I?"

"You could say that." Joe struggled up to sit and pulled the blanket over himself more thoroughly. "Think you could wait outside while I get dressed?"

Amanda pouted and looked at both of them. "Like I'd be shocked or something. Fine, I'll wait at the bar. Do hurry up, though." As abruptly as she entered, she left, shutting the door behind her. 

Methos had to laugh. "Leave it to her."

Joe was regarding him evenly. "How fast do you think you could get off right now?"

With his cock still rock hard in his jeans? "Pretty fucking fast, Joseph." 

"C'mere." It was a low growl and Methos grinned and crawled up on top of him, straddling his hips. Joe wrenched open his jeans and shoved them down enough to free his aching cock. "I know how much you like my hands on you."

"Gods, Joe, you have no fucking idea." Methos squirmed when Joe's hand wrapped firmly around his straining shaft and stroked firmly, quickly. His head fell back and he thrust into Joe's strokes, letting the white-hot pleasure build up unfettered at the base of his spine. It took less than two minutes for Joe to wrench a mind-blowing orgasm out of him.

Methos panted and barely held himself up on one arm. "Wow."

"Have I just rendered the world's oldest man monosyllabic?" Joe smiled up at him, reaching up to stroke his smooth cheek. 

"Yes." Methos flopped over next to him again and kissed the palm of his hand, licking off the stray droplets of come. "Your shirt is a mess."

"I'll change it." Joe levered himself up and reached for the prosthetics. "You go on down and keep Amanda company while I clean up, huh?"

"Fuck Amanda." And yet he rolled up and stood, still a little shaky, putting himself more or less in order. 

"Just curious - have you? I've always wondered." Joe was getting into his jeans and taking his own sweet time about it.

"Mmm. Yes. Quite a bit. We thought it best Mac never knew how well we know each other, since it was all long before he was born." He stopped at the door and looked back at Joe. "Does that bother you?"

"Nah. I wouldn't have asked if I hadn't wanted an answer. Like I said, I've just been curious." Joe grinned. "Now shoo. I'll be down in a minute."

Methos grinned in return and slipped out the door, feeling light. Feeling...almost young. He plopped himself down at the table next to Amanda, still grinning.

"I see you still managed to get off." Amanda pushed a glass toward him, smiling mischievously. 

"And how. Now...why are you so abominably early?" Methos took the glass in his hands, taking a sip, but mostly playing with it idly.

"We have to pre-shop. I got your text with the link to the flat. It's gorgeous. And here I never thought you'd open your wallet." She leaned in conspiratorially. "It must be love or something."

"That it is. Just do me a favour and don't break him, all right? He's not used to...all of this. Anymore than I am, for that matter." Methos shook his head and smiled wryly.

"You know you can trust me with him." Amanda raised a carefully waxed eyebrow at him. 

"Of course. That's why I called you, after all." Amanda was many things, and untrustworthy in many ways, but in this...he trusted her. She was an unrepentant thief and he wouldn't leave the good silver out around her, but she'd take good care of Joe. 

"I'm glad you did. I like interior design shopping almost as much as I do diamond shopping. I'll make sure that your flat looks fantastic." She beamed and drained her whiskey while Methos was still playing with his. 

"Just...let Joe lead, okay? That's all I ask. He's got the black card, and he may be afraid to use it. Convince him otherwise." They were trading mischievous looks just as Joe came down the stairs. 

"Oh god, you're conspiring, aren't you?" He sat down heavily and took the glass Amanda handed him. 

"Just making sure you actually spend Methos' money," Amanda declared breezily, giving him a grin.

"Our money," Methose amended softly. "It's our money."

That made Amanda's smile soften, and Joe looked up from his glass in surprise. "What? That's crazy, Methos." Joe looked a bit flushed. 

"Well, I don't feel particularly sane where you're concerned, Joseph. You'll have to forgive me." Methos shrugged, his typical louche, lanky shrug. "That's one of the things I'm taking care of in Seacouver. Making sure your name is on all my accounts. And that if I ever lose my head, it all goes to you. You'd know better than I what to do with it."

Joe was still gobsmacked, so Amanda answered. "Damn, Methos, I had no idea it was that serious."

Joe shook his head finally, "It's that serious, Amanda. Apparently."

"Guys, it's just money. The power of compound interest over time. I've lived many lifetimes not even touching it so as not to draw attention to myself. It builds up." Now Methos was blushing. 

"Just stop talking about losing your head, okay?" Joe reached out to take Methos' hand, threading their fingers together on the tabletop.

"Okay. You know I'm a survivor first and foremost." Methos raised Joe's hands up and kissed the knuckles. "Now what is pre-shopping? You invented this, Amanda. Admit it."

"I most certainly did not. We need to figure out your style so I can choose where we go to find things that fit it. Unless you want to be lugged around like a parcel of goods all over Paris," Amanda said primly, pulling her tablet out of her Balenciaga. 

From that point, Methos just watched as Amanda did her magic. She showed a befuddled Joe different styles of design and different color palettes. He started getting into it about ten minutes in, and their heads were together over the tablet after that as he started poking it and exploring about. It was rather adorable. After half an hour of watching them, he leaned over and kissed Joe on the cheek.

"I'm going to go upstairs and make my travel arrangements. I want to get this over, and get everything transferred to an attorney here." Because being away from Joe was going to hurt, and he was intrinsically inured to pain. 

"Okay." Joe spared a moment to smile up at him, and Methos smiled back. They were ridiculous, but at least they knew it. 

Soon, he had a ticket booked to Seacouver, appointments made with his attorneys and accountants. He'd leave tomorrow. He hadn't told Joe one of the reasons he had to go, and go now. That didn't promise to be a good conversation.

Eventually, Joe came back upstairs and leaned against the door. "Good lord, that woman is an unstoppable force of nature."

"Not nature, darling. Capitalism." Methos quirked a smile that quickly dissipated. "I need to talk to you about something."

"Uh oh." Joe went to sit in his chair. "You look like you're about to deliver bad news."

"Well. It's not bad, per se, but it might upset you, and that's the last thing I want." Methos took a deep breath. "Mac is in Seacouver." Joe had barely checked on him in the last two weeks. There was a Watcher on him, but Joe didn't run around and follow the man anymore. 

"And you're going to see him," Joe said, voice flat. 

"I'm going to see him. I need him to help me get back in proper fighting form, so I can protect you in case someone comes looking for my head." Methos had a knot in his stomach as he watched Joe's face fall. "If he doesn't take my head himself on general principle."

"I...I see. Look, whatever happens with him, just...don't tell me." His voice had a harder edge to it. 

"What do you mean?" Methos asked, head cocked to one side.

"I mean, if you fuck him, I just don't want to know." Now Joe was getting angry. "Were you planning on telling me you were even seeing him?"

"I was going back and forth about it, but ultimately it came down to the fact that I never want to lie to you." Methos crossed his arms over his chest protectively. This sucked.

"I would rather you hadn't." Joe spat out the words. 

"What are you really afraid of?" Methos asked, realizing this was more fear than anger on Joe's part. He knew the answer, but Joe had to confront it, because they needed to face the fact that Mac was never going to just go away. 

"I'm afraid you'll fuck him! I do know your history with him, I know how you feel about him!" Joe stood up and paced the small living room. 

"No, you still haven't told me what you're really afraid of. So let me tell you something. And then you'll tell me the truth." Methos took a deep breath. "The double Quickening did something to us. I never really believed in souls - I mean, when an Immortal dies, we just get absorbed into the hive mind. But then part my soul was ripped out of me and stitched onto his, and his was stitched on to mine. We're bonded through that, and it will never, ever change." 

Joe was just staring at him in horror, so he went on. "I've never told anyone that, never even thought I could. Now. Tell me what you're really afraid of."

"I'm afraid that you'll leave me for him, because he's...fucking Duncan MacLeod and I'm a double-amputee mortal who's only got another thirty or forty years in him." Joe's voice was quiet, but Methos heard loud and clear. 

"Then you're a fool." Methos didn't shout, he didn't have to. "Because the most important part of this sad tale is that, for all he's a fucking boy scout savior to the downtrodden, he is deeply toxic to me."

"What do you mean? Just because the sex was weird and bad the first time, you don't want to try again?" Joe was processing, but he was stubborn as all get-out. 

"Joe, the sex was weird, but it was far from bad. However, it made me feel like shit afterwards. He made me feel like shit. He will always despise me on some level. Every time he would touch me, it would be going against his better nature and his oh-so-deeply held convictions about right and wrong." Methos still remembered the feeling of Mac walking out of his flat without a backward glance. 

Joe just stared at him. "But it could happen again. We all do things that make us feel like shit after we do them. All the time." 

"Not this, Joseph. Not this, not like this. To be seen so completely, and so deeply, and be rejected...I would not ever go through that again." Methos voice was raw. It hurt. It would always hurt. Maybe before Bordeaux...but even then Mac couldn't come to terms with his attraction to another man. Fucking infant. 

"I believe you mean that." Joe sat down again, deflated, but still unconvinced.

"I mean it. You know I don't relish pain, I run from it. I've had too much of it in my life. I need Mac to get me back into form, and I need that so that I can protect you. When they come, and inevitably they will come, I will protect you. I swear that to you." Methos knelt in front of Joe, like a supplicant. 

"And as for choosing you, Joe...I didn't expect it, I wasn't looking for it, but you're the one. I told you, you are the one person in my entire long life who looked at me, knew the bad and the good, and took me anyway. Loved me anyway." Methos dared to take Joe's hands in his. "I would not, could not, do anything to jeopardise that. Please believe me."

Joe was quiet for a long time, weighing what he'd heard. "I believe you." Another long pause. "I love you."

"As I love you." Methos felt his whole body release from the clench of fear that he was about to lose Joe for good. That just wasn't acceptable. "I'm sorry that I even contemplated not telling you."

"I'm sorry for assuming you were going to fuck him." Joe shook his head. "I'd wondered what the double Quickening had done to you both, but I didn't know it was...that."

"It's pretty bloody awful," Methos agreed. "And look at us, surviving our first fight."

"I guess the honeymoon is over." Joe managed a half-smile.

"Good. Because I want to get on with the business of spending our lives together. And that includes all the messy, complicated stuff. I have a hell of a lot of baggage." Methos was the king of baggage, in fact. 

"I know, love. I know. I've got some of my own." Joe worked a hand free to cup Methos' cheek. "Now kiss me and make up." 

Methos could do that. Oh, he could do that. His mouth was on Joe's, and while it started out tender it became downright filthy in no time flat. Much like the two of them in general. Sweet but dirty. To Methos, it was an intoxicating combination. 

"Gods, Joe...I want so much more than to kiss and make up. I want you to put me face-down and fuck me into the goddamned mattress." 

"Yeah?" Joe growled softly. "Want me to shove your head down and just take you, hard and fast? You gonna put that gorgeous ass up in the air for me?"

"Like a fucking cat in heat," Methos murmured before going in for another one of those incendiary kisses that ended in Joe sucking hard at his tongue. 

"I wanna tie your hands behind your back so all you can do is fucking take it." Joe watched Methos' eyes, obviously aware that this was something new, something that Methos might not exactly be into. He probably wasn't even aware he had it in himself to want that, to do that. 

"Fuck, yessss," Methos hissed, his cock jerking at the very thought. "Do it, Joe." 

"Then get in the bedroom and strip. Show me everything." All five thousand years of pain and pleasure and everything in between. 

Methos stood with feline grace, giving Joe an eyeful of his cock straining through his jeans before turning to walk into the bedroom. Once inside, he shed his clothes like a snake shedding skin, and he stood there by the bed naked and hard as a rock.

Joe came in a moment later and stopped by the door, taking him in. It made Methos feel desired in a way that he hadn't known in ages. "Jesus," Joe breathed, taking off his own shirt without even paying attention. 

"No, but he was a very nice fellow." Methos smiled slyly - it was an ongoing joke, where he'd been around the year 33 AD. "Now, I'm going to get on this bed, and wait very patiently for you." With that, he crawled to the center of the bed, put his face down on the pillows, crossed his hands at the small of his back, and spread his thighs nice and wide. He knew Joe couldn't exactly fuck him on his knees, so he kept himself pressed flat to the bed. 

Joe walked over and ran a hand down Methos' long back before taking a handful of his ass and squeezing it hard. "You're being so good for me, aren't you?" It was that same low, gravelly, whiskey-tinged voice that always made Methos' toes curl a little. 

"Don't get too used to it," he murmured, arching up into that squeeze and prompting a slap in return. 

"Oh, I won't." Joe's thumb ran dry over his hole, and Methos moaned shamelessly, somehow managing to get his thighs even more open, to arch his back up into it. "Now, stay nice and still for me. I have to get ready."

Methos couldn't remember the last time someone talked to him like this, treated him like this, but he was damned sure that it hadn't turned him on so fucking much. "Yes, Joseph."

He heard Joe rummage in his closet for a moment, and he came back with something cool and silk - a necktie - and Joe wound it tightly but not unforgivingly around his wrists. Methos could feel himself get even harder where his shaft was pressed to the mattress. 

The prosthetics were next, then the rest of Joe's clothes, and Methos could hear him get the lube out from the drawer. He soothed himself by chanting 'soon soon soon' in his head in a variety of languages. Joe crawled up between his thighs and propped himself up on one arm, and slick fingers found his hole again. Two right at the first, for the slight burn, and Joe worked him open, as if it was a challenge when Methos felt like his body wanted to swallow the man whole. 

"Fuck, look at you, so opening up so fast for me. You always do...always so tight and fucking perfect. Love watching it happen." Joe added a third finger, and glanced off Methos' sweet spot, prompting a low, guttural moan and a twitch of Methos' hips. 

"Yes, yes...please, more." Methos' world was going grey around the edges, and all it had taken was a slap on the ass and a necktie around his wrists. Maybe this should conjure old, bad memories, but it didn't. "Am I a good little slut for you?"

"Christ, you're everything I could have ever dreamed of. More." Joe dared another slap, pulling out his fingers momentarily, and Methos rewarded him with another throaty moan. 

"Joe, fuck, yes. Please do it again." Joe didn't have to be told twice, and his slaps weren't gentle. It made Methos angry when they healed so quickly. 

"Thought you ran away from pain." Joe plunged three fingers back inside him, deliberately going for his prostate and rubbing against it. 

"Not when it's you...not, oh gods, when it's you." That was as much a revelation to Methos as to Joe. "Please fuck me, gods, fuck me so hard."

"That last bit wasn't in English, but I think I got the gist of it." That was news to Methos, too. What the fuck language was he even speaking right now? The first, the oldest?

Joe slicked up his cock and pushed into Methos, lying with most of his weight on his elbows along that elegant back, and Methos could feel the grey coming closer. His eyes shut tightly, and he focused his whole world around Joe inside him, covering him, mounting him. 

The rhythm Joe set was nearly punishing, but in the best way, and bound the way he was, all Methos could do was rock shallowly into it. "Fuck me, oh gods, fuck me, use me." He could barely get the words out, and he had no idea their provenance or in what shape they left his mouth. 

"I know, sweetheart, I know." Joe bit at the base of his neck, then the tender join of the shoulder on both sides as he found the perfect angle and pursued it ruthlessly. 

Methos strained against the bonds, not trying to free himself but just to feel the silk bite into his slender wrists the way Joe's teeth were biting into his flesh. He was surrounded by Joe, weighed down by him, pinioned on his cock, so far gone he couldn't even think to flex well-trained muscles or ply any of his tricks of the trade. 

Joe seemed to know just how far gone he was, because he redoubled his efforts. "Made for me to fuck, yeah, just like this. Mine." 

That was what did it, those words and the accompanying bite, harder that the rest, drawing blood from his pale skin. Methos shook with his orgasm, howling into the pillow like the little beast he was at that moment. 

Joe growled when Methos bucked and writhed beneath him, and he used a hand to reach down and grip Methos' hip bruisingly hard as he filled him up. Methos could feel it, deep inside, and Joe could doubtless feel the frisson of Immortal healing all the way down to his spurting cock and emptying balls. 

"Oh, fuck." Joe levered himself up enough not to put too much weight on Methos' bound wrists, pressing his forehead against Methos' shoulder. He wasn't too much more steady than Methos himself. 

"Oh...oh..." Methos whimpered, still riding out in the grey, trying to turn his head and kiss Joe. Joe shushed him gently, and reached down to unbind his wrists with a shaky hand. When they were free, Methos whimpered again when Joe pulled out of him and turned him in his arms. A kiss silenced those noises, and Methos started coming back to himself at the familiar taste of Joe's mouth. 

Strong arms wrapped around him, held him fast, and soon the shaking dissipated as well, leaving Methos spent. They were silent for long moments, as if the first words spoken after would mean everything. 

"You trusted me," Joe finally whispered, lips pressed against Methos' sweaty temple. 

"I trusted you," Methos answered, prying open his eyes. 

"You don't give that easily, do you?" Joe met his eyes. 

"I do not." At least at this point, Methos was pretty sure he'd switched back to English, or at least French. 

"Then I'm honoured. Humbled." Joe kissed him again, before nuzzling his neck like he was trying to imprint himself on Methos. 

Silly man, Methos thought. Didn't he know that he already had?

"I'm just a really old guy." Nothing to be honoured or humbled about.

"Bullshit." To Joe, it was like holding god himself in his arms. "What language were you speaking? Before?"

"My cradle tongue. I...haven't spoken it in centuries." Part of Methos had wondered idly if he'd forgotten it. Apparently not. 

"Are you okay? I mean...really okay?" Joe seemed to get that it was a very big deal - not just the mother tongue, but the whole thing. 

"I am so far past okay..." Methos smiled muzzily up at him, reaching up to cup his face in his hand. "Now...tell me again how worried you are about anyone coming between us."

Joe shook his head. "No one can come between us, Methos."

"Damned right. Look, I've just had myself fucked back to the paleolithic, so I think I'm going to need a nap." Methos curled himself even closer into Joe's arms, and let himself finally drift off into the grey.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey with this series. You'll probably notice the decidedly non-90s tech. Oh well. Thank you all for reading!


End file.
